


Immolate Me

by leet911



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Ava is hot, F/F, First Kiss, One Shot, Self Prompt, Sharing Body Heat, Space heater Ava, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28661244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leet911/pseuds/leet911
Summary: In which Beatrice is so very cold, and Ava is damned hot.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 29
Kudos: 257





	Immolate Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foibles_fables](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foibles_fables/gifts), [avatricefeels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatricefeels/gifts).



> Filling my own "Ava is hot" prompt, inspired by a tweet about Ava being the space heater in the relationship.

* * *

_Ava is hot._

Beatrice doesn't know if it's because of the Halo, but she's grateful for it. She can feel the heat radiating off Ava's nearby skin. They're not touching (Beatrice makes sure of that), but the hairs on her arm are raised towards the welcome warmth that's just a few millimetres away, straining to reach. It's raining, they're both drenched, and it's cold.

At least, Beatrice is cold. Ava doesn't seem bothered at all.

They are on a mountainside somewhere in the Italian Alps, with their Sister Warriors not far out of sight, but the torrents of rain falling around them make it seem like there’s no one else in the world. They are tucked underneath a small outcropping of rock, trying to avoid the storm. The shelter is barely big enough for both of them, but huge sheets of water keep falling from the sky and neither wants to chance going further to find a better spot.

Ava inches closer, but Beatrice shies away. Ava is warm ( _hot even_ ) and Beatrice doesn't trust herself with that. She already fights to avoid touching Ava at every opportunity, holds back when Ava hugs her, is very careful where she puts her hands in those moments when they do touch. Because in her dreams, Beatrice pretends Ava likes touching just as much as she does. Maybe more even. And though part of her is dying to find out if it’s true, it also scares her.

One of her vows is chastity.

But sometimes Ava smiles, and Beatrice feels like she’s sixteen again, and she wants nothing but to crush their lips together, hold Ava close, and feel their hearts beat in between them. Sometimes Beatrice asks God for strength, because she thinks Ava must have been sent to test her.

Ava states the obvious. “Your arm is getting wet.” 

It is, because that’s the only way they can avoid touching. Beatrice’s left shoulder and arm feel like blocks of ice underneath the rain.

“Why don’t you come closer?” Ava switches to a more direct approach.

“I’m fine.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

 _Freezing_. “No.”

“You’re shivering.”

Beatrice can tell where this is going, and she doesn’t believe she’s strong enough for this. So she clamps down on her muscles to stop the trembling, but her lip still quivers as she speaks. “I’m fine,” she repeats, and changes the subject instead. “The others are further ahead. They found a similar refuge. Bigger, I hope."

Ava doesn’t let her escape that easily. “We can share body heat.”

That’s exactly where Beatrice thought this was going. And Beatrice wants to. She really really wants to. But she doesn’t trust herself enough in her current state to keep it platonic. She doesn’t trust herself much at all nowadays.

And she doesn’t know if Ava does these things on purpose, or if Ava is oblivious. Maybe Ava doesn’t notice the stares, the carefully avoided eye contact, the hands that never know quite where to be placed. Ava can’t see the butterflies in her stomach, or the spinning in her head, or the tightness in her chest.

See, Beatrice has a lot of thoughts about Ava, even if she knows she shouldn’t. And some of those thoughts are decidedly not Catholic.

So when Ava puts her arms around Beatrice, pulls her close, Beatrice shudders. Just one spasm that starts at the base of her spine, travels all the way up to her neck and ends in her fingertips. She can’t stop her own arms from wrapping around Ava, her hands from latching on to Ava’s back. Beatrice moans in frustration.

Ava is not warm. Not like this. Huddled together, they are out of the rain, but their cold wet clothing squishes between them. And although Ava’s back is warmer than Beatrice’s hands, through the soaked tactical gear, it’s only barely so.

“You’ll get hypothermia,” Ava says, matter of fact, “we should take off your wet clothes.” As if to reinforce the point, Ava starts removing her own, undoing the clasps on her armour, and pulling her shirt off.

Beatrice looks away, because she always does. Whether it’s out of courtesy, or confused modesty, or pure repressed yearning, she doesn’t know. She is limp as Ava does the same to her, tying their shirts together as some sort of makeshift shawl to wrap around them. And this time when they touch, it is skin against skin. Ava feels like a fire burning against her, and Beatrice is shaking.

Because Beatrice has heard the stories, seen the scars. The Halo is power and strength and wrath and vengeance. The Halo burns those who are not worthy, not ready. And Beatrice knows she isn't worthy, because she isn't pure enough. So she's never touched the Halo herself, knowing that it would burn her. She just never thought the Warrior Nun could burn just as much.

When Ava leans her cheek against Beatrice’s they both shiver. Ava’s breath is hot on Beatrice’s neck. Her arms are encircling Beatrice’s waist, holding their improvised blanket closed, and the only thing that Beatrice can think of is the feeling of Ava’s body against her.

“Is this better?”

 _So much better._ But Beatrice doesn’t say that. She doesn’t say anything at all. Her voice catches in her throat and she struggles to breathe. Ava is soft and charged and **hot**.

Beatrice’s hands are wooden, stiff, dangling by her sides. It’s Ava who takes them and holds them in her own, rubs them gently to warm them up. And when Ava speaks, it slays her. “You can touch me to warm your hands.”

And Beatrice has asked God for strength countless times since joining the church, but never like this. She’s grateful they're huddling together and her face is hidden, because she is practically humming. She’s also grateful that Ava left their underclothes in place because she’s sure she would die if they weren’t.

She does not move her hands. Beatrice would never impose. She would never assume, no matter what it sounds like Ava is saying. Besides, she’s supposed to be a nun.

Ava continues, "I like it when you touch me."

Beatrice sputters. She reminds herself that Ava is not the same as her. Ava is the Warrior Nun.

But Ava presses impossibly closer, until her heartbeat is drumming into Beatrice’s ribcage. “Do you feel that?”

And maybe Ava is exactly the same as every Warrior Nun Beatrice has never met before ( _like_ _Sister Melanie_ ). So Beatrice nods, takes Ava’s hand, holds the fingers against her neck so Ava too can feel the hammering of the pulse just beneath the skin. “When I’m with you, I think I feel it too.”

Beatrice gives in then, and she doesn’t even know who moves first, but all of a sudden they are facing each other, nose to nose under their shelter, with the rain pouring all around them. Her heart is pounding, feeling as if it’s about to burst. Ava’s hair is wet, stuck to her head and framing her face, and Beatrice thinks Ava must be the most beautiful person in existence.

They are staring in each other's eyes, and Beatrice remembers Arq-Tech, remembers blocks of stone, remembers Ava stumbling through a wall and falling into her arms. She remembers elation and relief on Ava's face, but very different feelings in her own head. She had wanted to kiss Ava then. She had almost done it, but discipline had prevailed that day. Instead, Beatrice had thought of their mission, and duty and sacrifice. Beatrice had held Ava's cheeks and basked in her glow. She had smiled brightly and vowed to keep her promise ( _for Ava that time, not for God_ ).

Now though, two sets of hands roam, gripping each other tight, and Ava is smouldering. There is palpable heat coming from her, searing Beatrice’s fingers. And Ava's hands are like hot stones, leaving trails of warmth that feel empty as soon as they pass. Beatrice tells herself that it must be the Halo, or some consequence of its power. This can’t be just Ava. It can’t be just them and whatever this is between them, because even though Beatrice thinks she’s been in love before, she’s never felt quite like this.

When their lips meet, Beatrice closes her eyes because it’s just too much. The kiss is slow, and shy, and gentle. She can still hear the storm, and Ava’s ragged breaths mingling with her own. She’s wanted this for so long.

And Beatrice knows that even though she promised never to leave Ava, the truth is Beatrice would be the one lost if they were ever apart. Ava smells like rain and wet earth and ozone and campfires. Ava tastes like incense and salvation and deliverance. And Beatrice just might be combusting, but still she smiles.

* * *


End file.
